


keep a place for me

by xikan (chamsae)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Public Masturbation, Soonhoonfest Round 1, you are the apple of my eye AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamsae/pseuds/xikan
Summary: Because over the course of the year, Kwon Soonyoung has somehow slipped into his life as the most precious person to Lee Jihoon. 
(or: a 那些年, 我們一起追的女孩 (You Are the Apple of My Eye) AU.)





	keep a place for me

**Author's Note:**

> this is heavily inspired and based on the taiwanese film and novel 那些年, 我們一起追的女孩 (you are the apple of my eye), directed and written by 九把刀 (giddens ko). title taken from ‘self control’ by frank ocean. 
> 
> prompt: #50 ('love more' by chris brown). written for the first round of soonhoon fest.
> 
> tbh the fic is more of a t rating but ksy jacks off and talks about dicks quite a bit but in a comedic manner.

Soonyoung would rather listen to his teacher’s monotonous voice going off about titration curves than risk the impending embarrassment of getting caught at the back of the class with his own hands shoved down his pants. He hates chemistry with a burning passion of a thousand suns, so that’s definitely saying something.  

But this is reality. And reality means accepting that you’ve lost a bet and must deal with the consequences. (Wonwoo actually has the audacity to hold a fucking stopwatch to time him, nose scrunching and laughing like it’s the joke of the century. Soonyoung just really hopes he shuts up asap.) 

“No need to be embarrassed, we all get off,” Junhui reassures with a cackle, patting Soonyoung’s back like the good friend he is. “But if you don’t want to get caught, you need to hurry up.”  

“Fuck you,” Soonyoung breathes out. Thanks to his shitty friends and their shitty ideas, he decides that out of vengeance, he’s never returning Junhui’s illegally torrented porn collection, which means that Wonwoo won’t be able to get his hands on the flash drive either. It’s a win-win situation. 

As his teacher rambles on, Soonyoung closes his eyes shut and slides his hands down his cock, breath hitching when he swirls the pad of his thumb around the head. There’s a bit of precome slicking his fingers when he continues the motion, occasionally stopping to graze the slit, liking the way it feels, pressure beginning to drive him over the edge. Soonyoung continues to stroke himself, cock hard and warm in his hand.   
  
This is nothing new to Soonyoung—jacking off like any sexually frustrated teenager would do—but time is precious and there are goals to be achieved. If he doesn’t beat Junhui and Wonwoo’s time on how long it takes to ejaculate, Soonyoung will have to sacrifice his lunch money to buy snacks for his friends after every sports practice. _Those cheap bastards._  And so, he fucks into his fist, snapping his wrists, ignoring how restricting his boxers are when they aren’t pulled down to his ankles, desperate for some kind of release and thinks of pretty much everything to help—dicks, bouncing tits, the pretty noona down the road—he’s so immersed that he completely misses his teacher calling out his name.  

“Would you care to tell the class where the equivalence point is?” Ms Cho asks, tapping the blackboard impatiently, chalk clipped between her fingers as Soonyoung stares at her blankly. “This content is fairly easy to understand if you actually paid attention to my class. When a strong acid is added to a strong base, the equivalence point is at—”  

“I don’t know.” He cuts her off rudely albeit it was unintentional— _fuck_ —he wasn’t supposed to draw attention to the back of the class. Ignoring the fact that all eyes are on him now, Soonyoung bites his lip and continues to tug his cock, trying to muffle the moans that are threatening to slip off the tip of his tongue.  

“Then can you at least tell me where the buffer region is?” 

“Over there?” he says, pointing towards the squiggly lines with his free hand. It’s a hit or miss, but at least he tried.  

“You’re testing my patience, Kwon Soonyoung,” she states. Ms Cho’s tone is impatient but not angry and this is what Soonyoung dreads the most, as if the world just wants him to suffer when she demands, “come to the front and circle the area right now.”  

“I can’t,” Soonyoung pants. 

_Fuck._  He’s so,  _so_  close.  

“Excuse me?” At this point, Ms Cho loses it and shouts at him to stand up at this instance.  

So, out of respect, Soonyoung does.  

The class gasps and Ms Cho almost faints.   

 

 

 

 

 

Chemistry commences as normal the very next day. It should be surprising, considering the fact that everyone in Soonyoung's class has seen his dick. He doesn’t find himself summoned to the principal’s office for misconduct, or even stuck in an awkward meeting convened by his teachers threatening to expel him while his mother begs on her knees for forgiveness for her troublemaker of a son.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Ms Cho calls out, just as Soonyoung sits down at his designated seat.

“Yeah?” he arches an eyebrow.

“After your very unfortunate _predicament_ yesterday, I’ve asked Jihoon to keep an eye on you. Come up here and switch seats with Jooheon.”

Soonyoung finds it kind of hard to fathom his teacher’s logic—sitting in front of someone like Lee Jihoon (read: nerd, overachiever and all related synonyms) won’t automatically raise his grades. And it’s not like he’ll pay attention either. Groaning, he gathers his belongings and shoots his friends a forlorn look.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you after soccer training,” Wonwoo chimes. He faces Junhui and asks, “tteokbokki or odeng?”

“Why not both?” Junhui replies, lips curling up to a smug grin.

“Fuck off, I’m not balling in money,” Soonyoung weakly says. His wallet is going to cry for the next few weeks and there’s no way he’s going to beg his mother for more allowance. Being the supportive friends they are, Junhui and Wonwoo just cackle at his misery. Soonyoung flips them off and heads to the front of the class.

“It would be great if you could keep quiet. I’m the one who has to suffer because I’m sitting behind you,” Jihoon speaks out as Soonyoung sits down, dumping his bag onto the ground.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, much to Jihoon’s chagrin. The younger buries his nose between the pages of his textbooks again and mutters something under his breath about bad influences and classroom misconduct and a certain student being a lost cause.

“Do you have a problem with me?” questions Soonyoung. “We’ve known each other since middle school even though we haven’t talked before. But it seems like you have a lot to say about me behind my back.”

“Yeah, I do have a problem with you,” Jihoon states. He sets his book down with a sigh, tucking a SKY pamphlet in between as a makeshift bookmark, pondering why the teacher is taking her sweet time getting ready. He doesn’t want to carry on the conversation any further, honestly speaking. “Especially after what happened yesterday.”

Soonyoung scoffs at the way Jihoon says to him with such disgust dripping from his words. “What? Just because I, a human being, have genitals?”

“No, not that,” mumbles Jihoon. Looking back down, he preoccupies himself with his textbook, dragging the highlighter across the page, trying to not think about how Soonyoung’s eyes are trained on him. 

_“Ah.”_ Soonyoung leans in, chair tipping backwards against Jihoon’s desk. Jihoon can feel a bit of heat creeping up his cheeks when he locks gazes with him, Soonyoung’s hot breath tingling against his skin when the older whispers, “Lee Jihoon, don’t you touch yourself too?”

“What? I—” Jihoon squeaks, unable to formulate anything coherent back to the student without his heart pounding so rapidly against his chest, head slightly dizzy. “I don’t do that—”

“Sure,” shrugs Soonyoung, unconvinced. Snickering, he turns back to his original position when Ms Cho tells everyone to settle down for the class to start.

Somewhere between scribbling equilibrium equations and calculating solubility products, Jihoon concludes that he really doesn’t like Soonyoung. He would rather breeze through the semester with Jooheon occasionally shooting heart eyes at him than be at such close proximity with someone like Kwon Soonyoung. 

 

 

 

 

 

“There’s a way to remember this— _auto_ for self and _allo_ for others—so autopolyploidy is when polyploidy happens within the same species and for allopolyploids, it’s just when it occurs as a result of two different species mating.”

“Ah, I see,” Seokmin says, nodding. “Honestly, what would I do without you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon chuckles in response at his friend, eyes pressed into crescent moons. 

Soonyoung, seated behind the two in biology class, contorts his face into some semblance of thinly-veiled disgust, hands gesturing out motions of projectile vomit that has an uncanny resemblance to a half-assed hand job—he’s totally not speaking from experience, _wait._ That’s not the point.  He scoffs, “what a nerd.” He emphasizes the _nerd_ extra loudly on purpose, so loudly enough that Jihoon whips around almost immediately, frowning and eyes squinting, after the word leaves the tip of his tongue. Soonyoung blinks at the younger innocently, the smile on his lips fake and rigid.

“You’re a dick,” Junhui comments. He laughs at Soonyoung’s antics though, and it’s probably what fuels Soonyoung into making more remarks about one specific student.

“Mhmm, at least I’m honest about myself.” Sighing, Soonyoung’s gaze flits to the clock on the wall which doesn’t seem to go any faster and then back to his textbook laid out in front of him. His biology teacher had just left for a toilet break and he doesn’t really want to go through the assigned exercises on polyploids (it’s like a whole new language. Why was he taking biology anyway?)—he sighs again and rests his head onto the desk.

“Hey,” he feels Junhui nudging him at the sides with an elbow. “Soonyoung.”

“What?” Soonyoung says, albeit it comes out muffled and incoherent, face pressed against cold wood. Junhui calls out his name again but Soonyoung doesn’t bother to respond until something hits him. It doesn’t hurt, surprisingly. Soonyoung grabs the item, the soft, latex texture held between his hands and releases his grip—it’s a fucking condom. He sits back up straight after. That caught his attention alright. With a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, he declares, “oh, it’s on, Wen Junhui.”

The next few minutes consists of Soonyoung and Junhui flinging the condom back and forth at each other, all matters pertaining to academia pushed to the back of their minds. It’s only until it hits Wonwoo’s face when the racket induces Jihoon to halt helping out other students, the noise too much for him to bear.

“This is why your grades are suffering,” Wonwoo says to Soonyoung and Junhui. “You should at least try to do some work in class or you two will be begging for my notes for the upcoming midterms, _again._ ”

“They’re mediocre though,” Junhui states.

Wonwoo huffs and flips him the finger.

“I’m just kidding, you’re the life saviour out of us three. I can scrape a pass but Soonyoung over here can’t.”

“Hey,” Soonyoung groans, snatching the condom from Wonwoo. Bringing it up, he carefully aims it smack bang in the centre of Junhui’s face akin to the bullseye of a target, witnessing it traversing through the air in slow motion, until his friend brings a hand forward, smacking it away just in time.

It ends up on the floor by Jihoon’s chair just as their teacher returns.

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung calls out.

“What?”

“I dropped something right behind you. Can you help me pick it up?”

“Can’t you do it yourself?” Jihoon complains. Soonyoung tries to hold back mimicking the younger’s voice out of annoyance. But Jihoon does any way like the goody two-shoes he is, getting up from his spot and retrieving Soonyoung’s (Junhui’s) belonging. Jihoon’s about to pass it back to Soonyoung when he catches a glimpse of it—a floppy and stretched out condom in his own hands—and screeches right in the middle of the class in mortification, voice pitchy and deafening to the ears.

Soonyoung can feel himself shedding some tears from cackling too loud, almost falling off his stool in the process.  

 

 

 

 

 

Jihoon likes the afternoon.

More specifically, he likes the way the weather isn’t too humid on the way to study hall after class is done for the day, the summer breeze permeating in the air, a sense of serenity. It puts him in the correct mindset for the next few hours or so of self-study, to put it shortly.

But the world is against Jihoon for some odd reason and because he can’t bring himself to say no to his teachers, Jihoon finds himself taking a detour, trekking back to his classroom. The hallway is painted monochromatically grey and is initially consumed with silence until his footsteps take him closer to the room. When he slides the door open, the first thing Jihoon notices are the thrumming bass of music assaulting his ears and Soonyoung lounging somewhat comfortably on one of the chairs at the front, feet resting on the desk in front of him.

“Kwon Soonyoung.”

The aforementioned boy pauses the music and cranes his neck, groaning when he sees it’s Jihoon. “I know none of us wants to be here so make it quick. Just give me your notes on titration curves and whatnot.”

Jihoon scowls, “excuse me? I’m sacrificing my precious time because of _someone_ who can’t get their academic life sorted. And yet, you actually have the audacity to tell me what to do?” He brings a chair over and seats himself down next to the older.

Soonyoung huffs in retaliation.

“You do know we’ve started a new topic, right?”

“Since when?”

“Since last week,” Jihoon sighs. “Frankly speaking, by the way you’re acting and how unorganised you are, there’s little to no chance of you succeeding,” he states, voice affirmative. It’s not condescending in any form and it’s not done out of hostility, but Soonyoung curls his fists and grits his teeth. “We have our chem test coming up soon. Why don’t we make a start?”

Jihoon, to Soonyoung’s surprise, is actually quite good at tutoring. Organic chemistry is not a concept that can be grasped quickly but the younger’s explanations help Soonyoung clear up any confusion.

By the time the sun sets, marking the end of the session, Jihoon passes a sheet of paper to the older. “I’ve come up with a set of questions for you to do as homework. I’ll be marking them tomorrow so you better finish it tonight.”

Retrieving the script Jihoon had prepared, Soonyoung makes an inaudible noise and says, “what the fuck.”

“It’s easy, Soonyoung. We covered Saytzeff’s rule today so you should be able to complete the questions on elimination reactions.”

“I don’t see how this will help my future at all. I bet you even after ten years, I still won’t need to use Saytzeff’s rule in my life.”

Shrugging, Jihoon states, “I guess I’ll keep my expectations low for tomorrow? It seems like you have no hope at all.”

Soonyoung takes back all the nice things he has said about Jihoon that very day.

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung likes to think of himself as the go-with-the-flow type of guy. Life, according to him, is about taking whatever situation is thrown at him one step at a time. So when someone as pretentious and snobby and academically driven like Lee Jihoon declares him as a lost cause for a) not doing well in academia and b) not planning his future for the next ten years, albeit in a civil manner, Soonyoung is beyond furious. It just disrupts his flow.

“Fuck, I hate Lee Jihoon,” Soonyoung announces over lunch. He stabs a piece of carrot continuously with his chopsticks—muttering something along the lines of _Lee Jihoon you are the carrot and I fucking hate carrots_ —before setting it back down, groaning loudly. “Yeah, my grades suck but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a chance in doing well and proving everyone wrong. At this point I would just rather suck you guys’ dick than deal with Jihoon teaching me chem which seems more of a Kwon Soonyoung Roasting Fest to be honest.”

Junhui chokes on his soup.

“Thanks, I’m feeling the love,” Wonwoo replies, stealing a sip of Soonyoung’s untouched kimchi jjigae.

“You should channel all the energy you have for sucking dick into your studies instead so you actually become a person who isn’t useless.  Maybe that would help instead?”

Soonyoung makes a noise at the back of his throat and immediately glances up—and there he is, pompous asshole Lee Jihoon in his overachieving glory holding his lunch tray, extra pickled vegetables and all, with Seokmin trailing behind him, a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder as if it will alleviate the tension.

“So you do know about things outside academia,” coos Soonyoung, smirking.

“What are you trying to insinuate?”

“Let’s just find a table, Jihoon,” Seokmin ushers, voice soft. Soonyoung can’t even fathom how Jihoon has friends that has the capacity to tolerate him as the younger huffs and trudges away, Seokmin waving goodbye to the trio.

“I guess he hates you too?” Junhui says with a laugh. “Cute.”

“ _Not_ cute,” Soonyoung corrects. “So not cute at all.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Not bad,” Jihoon says, albeit reluctantly. “You only got one question wrong.”

Soonyoung takes back the practice test script, sending the smuggest smug expression of all smug expressions there is in the world to the younger. (Doing things out of spite does lead to results, Soonyoung learns. He doesn’t tell Jihoon that he had stayed up all night studying until sunrise just to prove the younger wrong.)

Jihoon rolls his eyes and passes the older another practice test.

They do this systematically over the course of the weeks leading up to the in class test—Jihoon tutoring Soonyoung and assigning quizzes—there’s a clear indication of improvement over time and Jihoon will never admit out loud but he’s proud. (Of his _own_ work, not Soonyoung, definitely not.)

(Jihoon lied.

Ms Cho congratulates Soonyoung when returning the in class test, telling him that he exceeded expectations and that he should continue on working hard. The older strolls back to his desk as Jihoon smiles to himself—but is caught when they meet eyes. Jihoon doesn’t want to know why his heart is beating quicker than normal.

Soonyoung grins and reaches out for a high-five as a joke, but to his surprise, Jihoon shyly returns the gesture for the first time.)

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung fights back a yawn as he fiddles with the Velcro straps on his gloves, sneakers sinking deeper into the field with every step, soles embedded with damp earth, the scorching sun beating down on his back. He ends up flopping onto the grass at one point, body lying prone and too fatigued to move from soccer training.

“Hey.”

Rolling over, he sees Jooheon smiling at him, the sunlight illuminating his face like some angel sent from heaven, offering a water bottle. “Thanks,” Soonyoung sits back up, and takes the bottle from his classmate’s hands. As he drinks from it, he notices that Jooheon’s still there looking like he has something to say but doesn’t. Not yet. “This is related to Jihoon, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Jooheon chimes. Plopping down, he says, “I think it's time.”

_“Finally,”_ chuckles Soonyoung. For as long as he could remember, Jooheon liked Jihoon since middle school—something about the way the younger smiled and how politely he conversed to people—it makes Jooheon hopelessly head over heels, while Soonyoung just thinks it’s kind of gross and mushy and tragic. The devotion is kind of amazing though, he admits. “Wait. What has this got to do with me?”

When the edges of Jooheon’s lips curl up, Soonyoung knows it’s a blaring red signal that he’s going to be roped into a multitude of terrible ideas again.

“I want you to help me write a love letter.”

“Jesus,” Soonyoung says. “What is this? The early 2000s? Just tell him via text or something. Send him copious amounts of eggplant emojis, he’ll get the message.”

“This is why you’re single,” his friend replies with a kick. Soonyoung yelps and rubs his shin. “I’m being serious.”

Soonyoung sighs in defeat.

“If he feels the same way, I’ll buy you proper food for helping me out.”

Soonyoung grins—this is how friendship works, unlike two certain people who had run off with his wallet to buy snacks earlier. “Now we’re talking.”

 

 

 

 

 

“What’s this?” Taking the folded paper into his own hands, Jihoon shoots Soonyoung a wary expression. “This doesn’t look like the questions I assigned to you yesterday.”

“Jooheon told me to pass this to you.”

Jihoon hums and flips it open, reading it out slowly, “to my dearest Lee Jihoon, I like you a lot. My love for you is like Romeo and Juliet, fiery, passionate and ceaseless. I hope you can be the Capulet to my Montague.” He squints his eyes and tries to stifle a laugh, and says, “love you for a long time, forever and always.”

“So,” Soonyoung says, trying to act as poised as possible.

“First of all, both Romeo and Juliet died so the love doesn’t last forever.”

“You’re talking to me as if I understand Shakespeare.”

“Secondly, this is your handwriting, Soonyoung.”

_Shit._

Soonyoung clears his throat, trying to not act suspicious in any form. He should probably deter Jihoon from thinking the letter was written by him on behalf of Jooheon. But like always, Soonyoung finds himself saying without prior thought, “it was good, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Sure,” the older shrugs, expression cheeky. “I’m not sure about Jooheon but you better not fall in love with me after reading that masterpiece.”

“Please,” scoffs Jihoon, fighting the urge to smack Soonyoung with the letter. (Gently, of course.) “Sorry to say but I don’t fall in love with people who are immature and dumber than me.”

Soonyoung gasps, bring his hands to his chest, feigning hurt. “I’m immature and dumb?” Jihoon rolls his eyes. The older pauses for a short moment as if he’s in deep thought about something so profound—and says, “Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon hums. “Yeah, Kwon Soonyoung?”

“Let’s make a deal,” replies Soonyoung. “If I beat you on the upcoming midterm, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually. I mean, it’s obvious who’s going to win here,” Jihoon says as a matter of fact. “But what’s it in for you?”

“So you’re suggesting that there’s a chance that I’ll do better,” Soonyoung says, smug grin and all. He takes back his words when Jihoon whacks him on the head with the love letter for real this time. It doesn’t hurt. “If I win, you’ll have to stop dressing like a nerd—keep your top button undone and untuck your shirt for the entire month.”

“I’ll get in trouble though.”

“That’s the whole point, Jihoon. I would love to see you suffer.”

“Fine,” the younger says.

“So… deal?” Soonyoung asks, sticking out his hand.

“Deal.”

It’s only when the older lets go of their handshake when Jihoon snaps out of his reverie and realizes that he has been holding onto Soonyoung’s hand for too long with his own, relishing the warmth that was emitted.

(When the results for their midterms come out, it’s obvious that Jihoon does better than Soonyoung. And subsequently, Soonyoung loses the deal that they’ve made.

So when Jihoon walks by him one afternoon during lunch, still looking angelic as ever regardless of his unusually scruffy hair, top buttons of his shirt popped open and untucked all out in the open, Soonyoung finds himself smiling, unable to comprehend exactly why Jihoon’s voluntarily doing this even if he had won the bet.

Soonyoung concludes that very afternoon that studying is incredibly rewarding, motivating himself to do even better.) 

 

 

 

 

  
The preparations for _suneung_ are well under way for November. All the senior students are on edge and consumed with stress, the dark eyebags that whimsically sit under their eyes show how sleep deprived everyone is.  So when Soonyoung’s called out in front of his entire class for stealing another student’s laptop who isn’t even in his class, he wonders why adults have to make his life more stressful than it already is.

“Theft isn’t tolerated in this school, Kwon Soonyoung,” his homeroom teacher states. He plows on, “you’re treading on a thin line right now. You wouldn’t want the police involved as well, right?”

“I didn’t do it,” Soonyoung replies. It seems like a futility though no matter how honest Soonyoung is, judging by the way his teacher is staring at him with such distaste in his eyes. The class remains quiet, save for a few who are mumbling to themselves at how Soonyoung should just admit his wrongdoings instead of disrupting the class.

“Out of everyone in your cohort, you’re the one who’s always causing trouble and failing. Obviously it’s you. Who else could it be?”

“What kind of logic is that? I already told you it wasn’t me,” Soonyoung seethes, hands curling into fists. “What the fuck. You’re suspecting your own student without solid proof. What kind of shit teacher are you?”

“I dare you to say that again,” his homeroom teacher shouts.

Slowly, Jihoon stands up amongst the tension, inducing whispers around the class. “Soonyoung’s right.” He feels himself trembling and afraid because situations like this is a novelty. Jihoon believes in doing good and not talking back to teachers, but this is just plain unfair and wrong. So he continues, voice quivering, “he didn’t steal it. You don’t have the right to belittle him—Soonyoung’s a good person and works extremely hard, just like the all of us. You’re being unreasonable for targeting him when there’s no evidence.”

Their homeroom teacher bellows at the honour student for talking back and demands him to sit back down.

Jihoon refuses to, and adds, tentatively, “with undue respect, I think you’re a terrible and inadequate teacher for behaving this way.”

(Soonyoung thinks the teacher’s about to faint at one point when he screams at them to leave the classroom—and it serves him right.)

Running laps around the school isn’t anything new to Soonyoung—it was unnerving at first because of how it was easy to be scrutinized by the entire student body but he got over the initial fear and humiliation after all these years.

But for Jihoon, it’s a whole different story. The younger is a honour student and has never gotten into trouble for anything—so receiving any sort of punishment is a big shock.

“The teachers aren’t here so you can stop if you’re tired,” he tells the younger, panting. Turning around, Soonyoung settles on jogging backwards, facing Jihoon. His expression softens when he sees the younger’s puffy red eyes. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

“This is just really humiliating,” Jihoon manages to say, sniffling. But he continues to trail behind the older, lethargic steps as the sun shines on them. He stops at one point, bending down and bringing his knees to his chest as he tries not to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Soonyoung says, sitting down on the grass. He brings a hand forward to pat Jihoon’s back. “You were really cool today, you know? Thanks for believing in me when no one else did.”

Jihoon looks up, nose red and cheeks wet.

“So stop crying,” says Soonyoung, wiping the tears rolling off Jihoon’s face with his thumb. Jihoon doesn’t flinch and just lets him continue his motions, soft fingers on skin, nodding absentmindedly. “You’re really ugly when you cry.”

Jihoon hits him on the chest, emitting laughter in between sobs. The younger leans in then, tears staining Soonyoung’s shirt, head resting on his shoulder. They both reek of sweat and the summer heat but even so, Soonyoung stays in that position, Jihoon easing into the embrace as the older rubs his back.

It’s comforting and there’s a sense of mutual reassurance. But most importantly, to Jihoon, Soonyoung doesn’t let go.

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of Jihoon until graduation.

It’s safe to say that they’re friends now—although he would argue that they’re probably more than just ‘friends’ but both of them are cowards—so they don’t act on their growing feelings, or at least verbally.

“At this point, I think I’ll be grateful for any university that is willing to accept me,” Soonyoung declares.

Jihoon hums.

“I bet you got into SNU—or pretty much all the universities across Seoul,” Soonyoung says with a grin. He continues, “so you’re probably not too anxious.”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon says, biting his lip. “I’m going back to Busan to study.”

The cheerful expression etched onto Soonyoung’s face drops. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” is all Jihoon manages to reply, upset.

“Regardless, I’m happy for you,” Soonyoung says, intertwining his fingers with Jihoon’s. And with a forced smile, he tells Jihoon, “I really am.”

  
(Thanks to the advancement and development of technology, Soonyoung keeps in contact with Jihoon for the first few months of university.

However, as expected, the workload piles up and it’s starting to become difficult for communication between the two due to time constraints.

Gradually, the text messages become rare, popping up sporadically—and by the end of the first semester, the exchanging of texts stops altogether.)

 

 

 

 

 

They say the world works in a funny way because ten years down the road in between odd jobs and graduating as a chemistry major and finding a stable teaching job—Soonyoung finally finds gets an answer to his question—Saytzeff’s rule is still relevant. Or, more specifically, high school chemistry provided a foundational framework and background understanding for his degree.

Soonyoung doesn’t know if it’s karma coming back to bite him in the ass or even maim him in one blow because he finally understands how Ms Cho felt back in the years. It’s almost laughable that Soonyoung’s back in his high school after all these years not as a mere alumnus but as a teacher lecturing about chemistry to teenage kids who still can’t grasp the difference between distillation and reflux. But it’s okay, they’ll get there in the end, he reassures himself.

He’s halfway into his illustration of a condenser on the whiteboard when one of the boys at the back calls out his name. Soonyoung turns around and says, “yes?”

“Your drawing looks like a dick, Mr Kwon,” the student says, eliciting snickers from his friends next to him.

With his mouth agape, Soonyoung finds himself holding back a snarky remark—a skill he has acquired over the years—and says instead, patiently, “do you have any questions that are actually related to organics, Jungwoo? It would suck if I have to make you stay after class to go through all the exercises with me on a Friday afternoon, no?”

The class reconvenes as normal until the bell rings, signaling the end of the day. His students bid him goodbye and scrambles off as he packs up his own belongings. By the time Soonyoung’s at the door, ready to lock up, he glances back at the empty classroom one last time.

Nostalgia, oddly, stings the longer you try diving deeper to get back the remnants of your childhood.

But it’s a good feeling, Soonyoung thinks.

A good feeling indeed. 

 

 

 

 

 

“Soonyoung?”

“Jihoon? Oh wow, hi. It’s been so long,” Soonyoung says. Blinking a few times, he lets reality to sink in—standing right in front of him is the man that he hasn’t seen for the past decade. It still feels like he’s stuck in a trance until the younger grins. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing good. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Pretty good too, I guess. I’m just grabbing a tux for Wonwoo’s wedding reception. Did you know he’s getting married?”

“Same here,” Jihoon tells him.

“You were invited too?” Soonyoung asks, shocked.

Jihoon nods, lips pulled up to a smile. “Are you going to fling elastic bands at his crotch?”

“That was _ten_ years ago, Jihoon. I’ve matured since then,” Soonyoung laughs.

He recalls being hunted down by Wonwoo for his usual silly antics or, eighteen-year-old Soonyoung would say back then, for _honour!_ —shooting a rubber band at Wonwoo’s crotch during their graduation ceremony—howling in laughter when his friend muffles a cry of pain, hutched over in the middle of the auditorium. Thumbing over the rack, he picks out a random suit and nods, satisfied.

“Time passes by so quickly. Everyone around me is getting married or having babies already.” Flipping the price tag, Soonyoung makes a face and puts the item of clothing back to where it belongs. “What are you currently doing right now?”

“I’m a psychiatry resident.” Jihoon doesn’t know why he’s like this but he blurts out, “and I’m still single.” The older chuckles and Jihoon tries to ignore that his own hands are clammy. “I mean, there’s no time to date. How about you?”

“I’m a chemistry teacher,” Soonyoung says.

Jihoon nods, albeit surprised. “I didn’t know you would do chemistry. But that’s good to hear that you’re doing well.”

The chatter in the atmosphere simmers down, save for a few customers wandering around the store. It’s slightly awkward at how Soonyoung and Jihoon continue to exchange glances when they’re so close to each other (literally not figuratively), but they don’t know what to say.

“So,” Soonyoung speaks up. “To answer your earlier question, I’m single too.”

“That’s good.” Jihoon tries not to panic when the older arches an eyebrow for his slip of words so the younger continues, “single life is great. Yeah, that’s what I meant. I’m glad I’m not the only one going to the wedding without a plus-one.”

“It’s fine, really,” Soonyoung reassures, a soft laugh following after. “I guess we can go to the wedding together as the lonely singles.” 

And they do.

(Soonyoung isn’t the type to cry and he prides himself on that. He gets through Junhui’s best man speech without any tears or sniffles on the wedding day. However, when it’s his turn as one of the groomsmen, the prepared speech memorized and ingrained in his head for weeks, he fucking _bawls_ for his friend (now groom and newlywed), Jeon Wonwoo.

Jihoon comforts him after, the grip on Soonyoung’s hand not letting go.)

 

 

 

 

 

_High school graduation._

 

“We made it,” Seokmin announces loudly with a cheer. 

“Yeah, we did.” Jihoon can feel the melancholy underlying his friend’s words behind the proud smile.

They’re seated by the grassy field, the animated chatter of the senior students congratulating each other and taking photos after the ceremony. It hasn’t completely sunken in yet to Jihoon that he has finally reached the end of this long journey, even after his valedictorian speech to the rest of the cohort.

Seokmin opens his mouth to say something again but before any words can come out, they’re interrupted by a loud (and overly dramatic) yelp in the distance—Soonyoung tackled down by Junhui and Wonwoo after a long pursuit across the campus.  Jihoon laughs until his jaw aches, pearly white teeth showing because of a certain someone.

“Do you like any of them?” asks Seokmin, curious. “Because if you do, it’s not too late to confess.”

Jihoon leans in and shyly whispers, “I like Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Really?”

Jihoon’s not too sure if the sudden heat is because of the sun or because he had looked away out of embarrassment, gaze accidentally locking with Soonyoung’s. The older sends him the shit-eating grin he’s grown to love—Jihoon smiles back and waves. Turning back to Seokmin, Jihoon nods, confirming his friend’s question. “If he likes me back, I’ll be very happy.”

Adolescence is an amalgam of confusion, constantly stumbling on the rocky road of self-discovery and bad haircuts on your ID photo. It purports to be the best time of your life—the innocence and naivety of youth—but really, it’s not, funnily enough. You’re thrown in the deep end, not even given a split-second to catch your breath before you spiral down into a perplexing mess of uncertainty for the future. Metaphorically, it’s like heavy rain, dousing you from head to toe and you’re just kind of stuck there in the middle of the storm that doesn’t seem to abate.

But the storm _does._ It’s kind of like the cliché _the light at the end of the tunnel_ saying.

But even when the storm dies down, Jihoon thinks he won’t mind going back to experience it all over again.

Because over the course of the year, Kwon Soonyoung has somehow slipped into his life as the most precious person to Lee Jihoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_You are the apple of my eye._

_你是我，最珍貴的人。_

_—— 九把刀 《那些年，我們一起追的女孩》_

**Author's Note:**

> the last part about how adolescence is like heavy rain is inspired by:   
>  1) soonhoon's ship name in korean (호우) and   
>  2) this quote from the novel: 「青春是一場大雨，即使感冒了，還盼望回頭再淋它一次。」which roughly translates to "adolescence is like heavy rain, even if you catch a cold from it, you would still look forward to experience it again."
> 
> i remember writing the last bits of this fic when chinaline + vocal unit sang the ost (那些年/those bygone years) in the hk fanmeet, i was so happy ahh
> 
> also: just in case if anyone was wondering, the scene in bio class happened irl back in junior (or senior??) year of high school. the boys at the back thought it was hilarious but i didn't pick it up lmao. #justcatholicschoolthings
> 
> if you haven't watched the film yet, i would definitely recommend it (along with 我的少女時代/our times) if you like nostalgic films!!


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